


The True Saga of Trym

by Roadstergal



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Battle, Canon Compliant, Crossdressing, Flying, Gen, Marriage, Mischief, Other, Stabbing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: An MCU retelling of the Saga of Trym, otherwise known as The One Where Thor Has To Pretend To Be A Woman To Get His Hammer Back.  The Norse legends are more fanservicey than anything I could come up with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Kahvi for giving me the inspiration and a fresh translation of the Saga.

“Guururrauuuuuugghhhhhaaaaa!"

The noise was all the warning Loki needed.  He tossed his book aside and leapt to catch the curios that tumbled off of his chest of drawers once the ground began to shake, the way it only does in the wake of a natural disaster or an angry thunder-god.  All and the same, really.

“Lokiiiiiii!!” Thor’s voice bellowed, coming towards Loki’s room so fast it was practically Doppler-shifted.

“What is it?  Stop shaking the floor, for dad’s sake!” Loki carefully put the crystal statue of a horse back on the chest, followed by a delicate vase decorated with twining snakes and vines.

A blond eclipse shadowed his doorway.  “Loki!!”

“Yes, I’m here, it’s my room.”  Loki finished replacing the decorative trinkets, then turned to his brother with a sigh.  “What is it now?”

“Do you have my hammer??” The vein pulsing on Thor’s temple couldn’t be healthy.

“Oh, yes, it’s right up my arse,” Loki said, brightly.  He paused a moment to let the sarcasm trickle slowly through Thor’s brain, and added, “Of course I haven’t seen your bloody hammer!  You probably got pissed last night and left it in the dining hall.”

“I checked the dining hall,” Thor said, sullenly, stepping into Loki’s room.

“Then ask Heimdall.”

“I don’t know where it is.”  Both Asgardians whipped around, startled by Heimdall’s silent entrance.  Loki cringed at the muddy bootprints the man was leaving on his floor.

“How did you know I was looking for it?” Thor asked.

“One needn’t have preternatural senses to have heard your screaming this morning,” Heimdall noted.

“Screaming?  I was shouting!  I was upset!”

“Yes… we know,” Loki sighed.

Thor sighed and flitted his fingers at Loki.  “Well, if it’s not around here, go look for it for me, will you?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll just drop everything and go look for your hammer, won’t I.  Here,” Loki pulled back his cloak, “here are my knives.  And there,” he pointed at the wall, “is my spear.  I didn’t lose _my_ weapons; why should I look for yours?”

“Mjolnir doesn’t feel all that great, does it?” Thor asked.  Loki reluctantly shook his head.  “Now, imagine someone who doesn’t _like_ you as much as I do hitting you in the head with it.  Got it?  Now go…” Thor flitted his fingers again, “turn into a bird or something, and find it.”

Loki rolled his eyes.  “Yes, a bird.  With a little bird brain and little bird claws.  I’m sure I can not only find your hammer, but bring it back, while I’m a _swallow_.”

“You could borrow Freya’s feathers,” Heimdall suggested, face still impasssive.  “That would let you fly in your current form.”

“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea!” Thor’s grin practically split his face.  “Yes, go borrow Freya’s feathers.”

“No, _you_ go borrow Freya’s feathers.”  Loki irritably started to pull more flying-friendly clothing out of his wardrobe.  “She doesn’t like me.”

“Righty ho, I’ll be right back!” Thor sailed out of the room like a frigate.

“You couldn’t have left well enough alone, could you,” Loki grumbled at Heimdall as he ripped off his comfortable clothing and donned too-tight trousers and shirt.  “Volunteering me for a long, boring survey mission to find his damn plaything…”

“He broke my demitasse set,” Heimdall replied, eternally unperturbed.  “I can’t have that sort of thing going on regularly – it’s going to be very hard to replace.  I have heard slight disturbances in Jotunheim, by the way.  Something in the earth sounds wrong.  That’s probably a good place to start.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Trust me.”

Loki most definitely did not, but it was as good a place to start as any, and he had a certain blood-right to go visiting.  Not that the Jotun minded drawing a little blood to prove that right.

“Here you go!” Thor thundered (of course) back into Loki’s room, carrying a cloak of falcon feathers.  “Indefinite loan, so take as long as you need.  Off you go!”

“What is that?” Loki asked, pointing at the fine golden chains with silver pendants Thor was now wearing around his neck.

“Oh, these?  Freya gave them to me.  She felt sorry for me, losing the hammer and all that.”  He cocked his head as Loki put on the cloak. “How does that let you fly?”

“The cloak synergizes with my glamour to give me fairly serviceable wings,” Loki explained, demonstrating by unfurling them.

“I don’t understand any of that.”

“No,” Loki sighed, taking his spear and stalking out of the room, “you wouldn’t." 


	2. Chapter 2

Loki's fly-over of the rough landscape of Jotunheim was extremely high, high enough that ice crackled in his falcon-feathers. Thor would probably call it cowardice, but Thor was an idiot. No sense in rushing in without adequate surveillance.

It was a good vantage point to notice a little more troll-activity than he was used to. It wasn’t exactly a party, but it was… something. Not a battle, but enough trolls to make a fairly ugly one if they decided they didn't like each other. As Loki circled slightly closer, he noticed an excess of horses gathered together, and big black-muzzled elkhounds. The tusser were busy amongst the animals, combing the horses’ manes and building gaudy gold chains for the dogs, as if they were expecting particularly classless company.

There was nothing for it. He would have to talk to Trym.

“Ho there!” the Troll-lord's voice bellowed as Loki landed on a grassy hill nearby. Yes, now that he stood on the ground, he could sense, somewhat, what Heimdall had felt. A restlessness in the ground, the stirring of an uncomfortable prisoner, the quiver of reined-in power. Interesting. “Loki, as I live and breathe!”

For now, Loki thought, as Trym tromped into view. His body was shockingly unhairy for a troll; Loki was fairly sure he waxed regularly. He also spent far too much time at exercise, and wore black sleeveless vests to show off his bulging shoulders and arms. 

“How goes it with the Elves and Gods? Have you been banished again? Really, you need to stop irritating your brother.”

“It goes quite badly,” Loki replied, “and no, I’m not banished. Look, Trym, I don’t want to waste either of our time. Have you stolen Thor’s hammer?” The ground jittered slightly under his feet, as if it were nodding yes.

“Not stolen!” Trym held up one beefy finger. “Borrowed. I borrowed it.”

“Well, that was very neighborly of Thor to agree to lend it,” Loki replied, coolly, “but I’m going to need to take it back. He’s missing it, you see, and his missing is very loud and destructive.”

Trym shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“I think you’re underestimating yourself.” Loki shifted his spear meaningfully.

“Kill me if you want, and then you’ll never get it back. Sorry, Loki, but I’ve buried it very far below ground, and you’re going to have a hell of a time digging it back up. Look, this is very simple. I’m a troll of means, now!” Trym waved at his horde, and they stopped staring and hurriedly went back to their bedazzling of the horses and dogs. “I want to settle down and enjoy it. I want a wife – someone to make breakfast for me, clean up around the house, give me an heir or two, sing me to sleep at night.”

How delightfully naïve. “And you’re thinking a buried hammer is what will impress the ladies.”

“Loki, my friend.” Trym clapped the Asgardian on the back, and Loki winced. “I have a proposal. A very straightforward swap, you see? Thor’s hammer – for Freya. Bring her to me to marry, and you get the hammer back.”

“Oh.” Loki leaned on his spear thoughtfully. “Is that all?”

“All?” Trym looked surprised, and then hid it very badly. “Yes, Freya for the hammer.”

Loki nodded. “That sounds reasonable.” A win-win all around. Freya was always complaining about being cooped up in the palace instead of being out with boys. This would be a way to get rid of her and get Thor’s toy back. It was perfect. “Let me go fetch her, then. Say, a week from today?”

“You’ll… bring her back to wed me in a week?” Trym looked startled.

“Well, yes, that’s what you wanted, right? Get the hammer all cleaned up – Thor is very particular about it. I suppose we’ll have to clean up Freya, too, but that’s easy enough."

“Well…” Trym nodded, quickly. “That sounds good. A wedding in a week!”

Poor bastard, Loki thought as he flew back to Asgard.


	3. Chapter 3

“Did you get it??” Thor bellowed up at Loki, his breath battering the falcon wings, before Loki even came in for a landing.

“Do you see a hammer?  Stop yelling, let me land.”  Loki swept down and alit gently on his brother’s balcony.  “I found it – Trym has it…”  
  
Thor balled his fists. “We will gather up brothers and sisters in arms and invade the land of the tusser!  They will rue the day they dared to lay hands on…”

“Hey, hey!” Loki grabbed Thor’s arm.  “It’s easier than that.  He just wants Freya.  Trade her for the hammer – she gets out of the house, you get your hammer.  No downside, no fighting.”

Of course the latter would be a downside to Thor, but the man just never enjoyed fighting if he didn’t have his precious Mjolnir to share it with.  “Well, that sounds pretty good,” he said, thoughtfully, scratching his beard.  “That’s all? Just Freya?”

“Yes, that’s it. I mean, we’ll probably have to clean her up a bit, dress her in something flimsy, but other than that….”  
  
“Excellent!  Let’s go tell her.”

* * *

 

Loki ducked as an apple flew at his head. “Trym?" Freya yelled.  "You’re going to marry me off to  _Trym_??”

“Yes,” Thor said, and her big gold necklace flew at his face.  He reflexively caught it.  “I thought you’d be delighted!”

“Do you think I’m so hard up for the touch of men that I would marry that  _troll_?” she hollered.

“He’s rich,” Loki offered.  “He has horses and gold and very large… land holdings…”  
  
“I’d rather marry  _you_ ,” she spat, “and I hate you!!”

“Well, I’m your brother, so we’d have strange children with eight legs…”

“Go away!  I’m never marrying Trym!  And give me my cloak back, I lent it to Thor, not you!” She ripped it off of his shoulders and pushed them out of the door, slamming it behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a dour trio of godlings that convened in the pantry.  Loki sat cross-legged on the butcher’s block, taking the wineskin from Heimdall and squirting a stream into his mouth.  “We must tell Odin,” he said after swallowing.  “He can make Freya marry.”

“No!” Thor took the wineskin from Loki.  “We cannot let him know.  It will just upset him unduly.”

“It will make him upset at you, certainly,” Heimdall said thoughtfully.  “He will want answers on how it became ‘lost,’ for one.”

Thor cleared his throat uncomfortably.  “Look, I just want to handle this without disturbing the All-Father.”

Heimdall looked at Thor searchingly.  “That’s Freya’s necklace, isn’t it?”

Thor looked down at the gold torc around his neck. “Oh, yes, she threw it at me.  I thought I’d hang onto it until she got over her tantrum.”

“Perhaps you should wear it a little longer,” Heimdall replied.  “You’re blond; she’s blond.  You’re the same race and the same family.  He’s never seen Freya, only heard reports of her beauty…”

“Well,” Loki replied, perking up.  “That’s not a bad idea!” Good enough that he felt some irritation at it not being his.

“No, no, and NO,” Thor replied.  “Absolutely not. Never. I am NOT dressing as a woman.  This is…”  
  
“This is a way for your father never to find out,” Heimdall said, smoothly.

* * *

 

“Really?” Freya said dubiously, peeking out at Loki from the sliver of open door.

“Yes, really.  We just need to borrow that veil of yours, and your cloak.  I don’t think anything else will fit, but Heimdall got his hands on some supplies. He’s putting Thor together.”

“Give me a moment.”  Rustling and rattling sounded from behind the door, and then Freya emerged, her makeup ugly and smeared from angry crying, her veil and cloak bunched in her hand.  “I want to see this.”

They both stopped stark-still when they entered Thor’s room, their jaws hanging open.  Heimdall was putting the finishing touches on a tight plait for Thor’s hair.  He had forced the man’s body into a corset, shaved his face smooth, and decorated it with rouge and kohl – but this was still Thor in women’s clothing, arms broad and shoulders square, jaw jutting and manly.

“Oh… my….” Freya gasped.

Loki looked from her to Thor, and back again. “Actually, it’s a fairly good likeness.”

Freya stabbed him in the throat.


	5. Chapter 5

"Brother,” Thor sighed, “This won’t work.”

Loki put the finishing touches on the magic to repair his throat, wincing as he stood.  The blood had ruined his tunic.  “Look, it’s the simplest solution.  It will work, I promise you.  The sooner we get this done, the fewer people who will know.”

“All right,” Thor grumbled, “but I’m going to kill all of them, you know.”

“Yes, fine, if you insist.”

“And you’re coming with me.  I need a bridesmaid.”

“Yes, of course.”  Did Thor really think Loki was going to sit this one out?  For one, Thor would surely screw it up on his own; for two, Loki _desperately_  wanted to see it play out.  He had no compunction about being seen as a woman; he had a woman’s form that could be quite comfortable, depending on the situation.  _He_  changed to  _she_  now – but as it was a skinny, pale, small-breasted form, she augmented it with illusion.  Her breasts swelled to fill out the green velvet gown she shifted her clothing into; she gave her hair a dark sheen, making it fall over her right shoulder in a tight braid, and forced a blush into her cheeks and red blood into her lips.

“Um…” Thor swallowed.  “I don’t know how to say this, but you’re a very attractive woman.   _You_ should do this.”

“No.  Mjolnir knows me, and doesn’t like me.  It has to be you.  Trust me, it will work.”


	6. Chapter 6

"A goat-drawn carriage?” Thor sighed, plucking at his corset as the carriage slowly made its way towards Jotunheim.

“Yes, goats are traditional,” Loki made up, glibly, pulling Thor’s hand away before it did damage to his fine clothing.  Truthfully, Heimdall couldn’t steal a team of horses without drawing attention, so goats it was.

“Are you making this up?” Thor asked, dubiously.

“Would I do that?”

“Yes.”

* * *

The tusser had made, by their standards, a fairly festive tent for the wedding ceremony.  It was made of stained linen, but decorated with flowers; Trym had forced his trolls to bathe and dress in a ragtag collection of bright Asgardian clothes, most of which had suspicious stab-holes over critical bits of anatomy.  The ground was strewn with fresh hay, and the cows had gold-painted horns.

“Cows?” Thor grumbled as he stepped out of the carriage with Heimdall’s firm grasp to guide him. “Cows?”

“With gilded horns.  I'm sure it's the best he could do,” Loki murmured.  “Follow me, and walk like this.”  She exaggerated her pelvis-tilt as she walked, letting her buttocks swish the green velvet back and forth.  She held out her hand to Trym to kiss; the troll shook it heartily.  “I bring Freya, most beautiful of the goddesses of Valhalla,” Loki announced silkily, then winced as Thor came tromping up behind her.

Trym did not hesitate.  "Most beauteous Freya!" By the Norns' tits, Loki thought, the troll really had not seen many women… "Come, I have prepared a feast! Let us eat, and drink, and then…” he drew close to the veiled Thor, “be wed.”


	7. Chapter 7

“I told you to eat less,” Loki hissed at Thor.

“I am,” the Thunder-god said around a mouthful of meat.  He had polished off most of an ox, and the bones of eight salmon littered his plate. "This is barely more than nothing!"

“Then eat  _nothing_ ,” Loki murmured.  “You can stop for just one evening, can’t you?”

“I need my strength!” Thor protested, draining a tankard of mead.

“Good lord, she eats a lot,” Trym said, wide-eyed. “Um, is this… typical?”

Whatever one thought of propriety, Thor’s appetite would beggar a normal kingdom in short order. Damn the idiot.  “Uh, well – when I told Freya of her impending marriage, a great excitement took her! Neither food nor drink has passed her lips since then, no matter how I encouraged her to eat to keep her strength up.  Now, seeing you, she is delighted and relieved, and her appetite has returned – to eat of this wondrous feast her bridegroom has prepared!”

“Oh, what a touching story,” Trym cried, his eyes big with wonder and love, “I must kiss her!”

“Oh bugger,” Loki sighed under her breath, as Trym pulled back the veil, revealing the face of a thunder-god who was not pleased to be dressed as a woman – or kissed by a troll.

Trym paused, his mouth open.  “Such fiery eyes! Such a fearsome visage!”

The troll was one to talk – he didn’t have to look at it every morning before Thor had broken his fast. “Lovely Freya has slept no more than she has eaten, her excitement has been so great.  She will sleep soundly with you later tonight…"

A rumble came from Thor's throat, and Loki stabbed the blunt end of a dirk into his side, cutting off whatever idiocy was about to come out of his mouth.  Damn it, they were so close!

“We have other things to do before we sleep,” Trym said, winking crassly at Loki before turning back to Thor, stroking his smooth, rouged cheek.  Without looking away, Trym snapped the fingers of his other hand at his attendants.  “Bring forth the dowry!  We will consummate with this sacred object at our feet, dear Freya, and tomorrow, I will send your lovely attendant back to Asgard.  See how Trym keeps his word!”

Loki grabbed Thor’s thigh warningly, feeling her brother tremble with excitement as a servant brought Mjolnir, shining, heavy, throbbing with power, on a dark cushion.  Trym took it and placed it in Thor’s lap.  “Feel the heft of it, dear lady!”

“I will!” bellowed Thor, rising up, splitting the bodice with the force of his roar, swinging Mjolnir until it sang a song of speed and violence.  It split Trym from head to toe, flung his relatives in fragments for miles, pureed any servants not swift enough to escape.

It was only about three minutes of brutal violence. When it was done, the site of the wedding was eerily quiet.  The cattle and dogs had run off.  Bodies and parts of bodies lay strewn in a circle centered on Thor – his hair still beautifully plaited, but now naked to the waist, splashed liberally with Troll-blood, panting heavily and grinning at his gore-streaked hammer.

“Are you done?” Loki sighed.


	8. Chapter 8

“And then, quoth Trym…” Thor paused dramatically, his hand outstretched, “I must kiss her!”

The packed table erupted in bellows of laughter.  Big hands slapped the wooden surface and made the goblets of mead jump; Loki grabbed at his before he lost it.  The warrior next to him grabbed him and punched him, dissolving in histrionics of laughter.  It was, Loki had to admit, a fairly good story, even if Thor was going over the top and beyond when it came to factual accuracy.

“And who came to my aid?  The fairest maiden in all the kingdoms…” Thor raised his hand and his eyes to the sky, again, milking the pause, before pointing at Loki.  “My brother!” 

The laughter rang long and loud into the night.


End file.
